


Final Crescendo

by 7CxRhye



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Character Study, Dadza, Gen, Insane Wilbur Soot, Kinda, November 16th, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), This isn't a shitpost, guys I just wrote the scene, it's a dramatization of the scene, please help I am crying over block men in a videogame, this hurt to write but it was so much fun, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7CxRhye/pseuds/7CxRhye
Summary: It was a beautiful day when the world ended. They had won.But Wilbur was exhausted. Exhausted, yet filled with more energy than ever before. L'manburg was his. He knew what he had to do. It was time for his symphony's final crescendo.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Kudos: 24





	Final Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago, back in November, but didn't work up nerve to post it. Wilbur releasing his video reminded me of it, so here it is. I hope you enjoy. I certainly did.

It was a beautiful day when the world ended. The sun was shining and there was a cool breeze from the North. The battle of the previous night was over. The tyrant had been dethroned to shouts of joy. There was celebration and glad chaos. They had won.

Wilbur was exhausted.

Now he stood among his friends and watched as Tubbo, wonderful Tubbo, kind Tubbo, sweet, pure, wholesome Tubbo, took up the presidency. The sun lit the boy's hair as he spoke to the crowd about peace. About an end to conflict. About rebuilding. He saw the hope radiating from the podium, mirrored in the faces of those around him. He should feel happy. This should be the best moment of his life. They had reclaimed L'manburg _(what was left of it)_. They had won. Hadn't they?

But all Wilbur felt was exhausted. Exhausted, yet filled with more energy than ever before. He could feel it, shivering and trembling in his fingertips, racing threadily through his chest. He made his way out of the crowd of his friends, listening with half an ear to the speech. They didn’t seem to notice as he left _(typical, really)_. He climbed the grassy hill and ducked under the fence, away from the cheering and noise. The sun was still shining. In the distance, a bird warbled its melody.

The world really could be beautiful, couldn’t it?

The breeze brushed his face and ruffled his hair as he walked. He couldn't help but to smile. _(Would it still work? It had to.)_

He rounded the corner and stepped up to the rocky cliff face. To anyone else it looked unassuming, innocent, but he knew better. He knew better than anyone what could lie beneath the surface. Drawing his pick, he knocked the stone away from his narrow tunnel, piling it behind him again haphazardly as he stepped through. The yellow carpet was a dull echo of the sunshine.

His tunnel wasn't long, and moments later he stepped back into his roughhewn cave. The cool stone was jagged in places, worn in others where he had smoothed his hands over it, over and over again. His wooden chair was where he had left it. His handwriting still adorned the walls with his lyrics. His music. His work.

The Button was where he had left it, too.

He sat and stared at the Button, his own words echoing in his head as they had every other time he'd sat there. _There was a special place. Was a special place. Was. Was. Was…_

Because it was in the past, now, wasn't it. There was no point in fooling himself. Even with Tubbo _(good Tubbo, pure Tubbo)_ holding the reigns, it wouldn't be the same. It couldn't exist again. _(Had it ever really existed? His perfect idea?)_ It wouldn't be his L'manburg. His L'manburg was gone. _His L'manburg. His. His. His…_

His leg bounced up and down where he sat. He stared at the Button, and the Button stared back. It was right there. All he had to do was reach out and touch it. All he had to do was reach out. It was easy, really. The easiest thing in the world. If he was going to press it, ever, it would be now.

And why shouldn't he? Why shouldn't he press it? It was over. What was stopping him? It was all over. Why should he keep an imperfect shell of what could have been? _(Had the air always felt so cold in this room?)_

"What are you doing?"

Wilbur blinked. "Phil?" Surely not. Was he hearing voices? _(Was that the worst thing in the world?)_

"What are you doing?"

He glanced around. "Phil? Where are you?" His voice was softer than he wanted it to be.

"I'm coming."

He looked around. There was nobody else in the room. Maybe something in his brain had finally clicked. Maybe he _was_ insane. "I wasn't doing anything," he hastened to explain to the empty room. "We, we, um, we elected Tubbo president, and we won!" He felt a smile pass over his lips. They had won, hadn't they? "We won the war! Schlatt's gone, Schlatt's gone, Phil, so it's, um…" He turned back to the Button again and lost the words to finish his sentence.

"Uh huh," Phil's voice said, dryly.

"It's, it's good," Wilbur said absently.

"Uh huh," Phil's voice said again.

Wilbur felt something shift. There wasn't a better way to put it, really. He turned again, and there was Phil, leaning on the wall of the tunnel and looking at him. His expression was thoughtful, but not unkind. Open. They looked at each other.

"Uhm," Wilber said. He resisted the urge to shuffle his feet like a child caught with a hand in the candy bowl. Above them were the muffled sounds of fireworks. Clanging. Shouting. His friends were fighting again.

"Yeah," Phil said.

Wilbur took a deep breath. It was Phil. It was his dad. Phil would understand. Wouldn't he? "Do you know what this Button is?" he asked, gesturing behind him.

Phil pushed off the wall and moved so he could see around Wilbur. "Uh huh. I do."

"Have you heard the song? On the walls? Before?" Wilbur asked. He couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice. "Have you heard the song? I was just thinking," he continued anxiously, earnestly, "I made this big point, and it was poignant, and it was that it's, um, that there was a special place, where men could go, but it's -- it's not there, anymore, y'know? It's not --" he cut off, swallowing hard.

"But it is there," Phil said, not unkindly. "You've just won it back, Wil."

Wilbur looked away. Had he won it back? He hadn't won, had he? This wasn't what winning felt like.

He couldn't bear to see Phil's face, open and kind and looking right at him. He clenched his jaw. "Phil, I am always so close to pressing this Button, Phil! I have been here seven or eight times. I've been here so many times…" He felt his eyes start to sting, and he blinked a few times.

"And you want to just blow it all up?" Phil asked. He was so calm. How could he be so calm?

"I…I do. I…think…I…" Wilbur sighed. He couldn't look away from the Button. It was so easy. All he had to do was reach out.

"You fought so hard to get this land back. You fought so hard." There was an unplaceable expression in Phil's voice.

The sounds of battle drifted down from above them. His friends were fighting for L'manburg. For their dream. For his dream. _(Dreams aren't reality. They never can be.)_ Wilbur swallowed again, hard. His vision blurred with tears but he couldn't find the will to care. "Phil." He willed his voice not to shake. "There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor, once part of L'manburg. A traitor I don't know if you've heard of…Eret?"

"Yeah," Phil said softly.

"He had a saying, Phil," Wilbur said. It was ironic, wasn't it. Using the words of a traitor in the last moments of the country he betrayed. _(Perhaps Eret was wiser than you after all.)_

But, no, this wasn't a betrayal. It couldn’t be. L'manburg was _his_. It wasn't for everyone else. It was his. So he couldn't betray it. He would never betray his L'manburg.

He turned back to the Button and felt Phil's eyes on the back of his neck. The energy was back. He could feel it in the trembling of his hands, and the smile that ghosted over his lips. "It was never meant to be," he said quietly. Happily. He pressed the button.

For the briefest of eternities, there was silence. And then the world was consumed by thunder.

The explosions roared through the air in a crashing chorus of sound. Phil was saying something, but he didn't care anymore. Stone cracked and rumbled in an avalanche. The explosions continued. He could feel the beat of their song in his chest. L'manburg's final crescendo. Distantly he registered voices, screaming. Shouting. Harmonies to the echoing explosions. He didn't blame them. How could you not raise your voice when surrounded by music that strong?

As the thunder died away, the final notes were still ringing in Wilbur's ears. The front of the room was gone, giving a view of the wreckage. Rubble tumbled down around the sides of the crater. Water rushed in from the lake. And as he watched, a sunbeam filtered through the clouds of dust. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

His hands were shaking. There were hot tears on his cheeks. There was dust in his hair and his eyes and Phil was shouting something at him and he didn’t care. He was free. L'manburg was free.

"It’s all gone!" Phil was saying. Were those sobs in his voice? Or laughter?

Wilbur felt a silent laugh as it was pulled from his throat. This was joy. He inhaled deeply. The air tasted like rubble and gunpowder smoke. "My L'manburg, Phil!" He crowed. "My unfinished symphony!" He moved to the edge of the crater and scrambled partway down. The stone was cold against his hands. "Forever unfinished!" he cried. He turned his face to the sun. "If I can't have this, no-one can!" Reality was cruel to dreams. It twisted them and shattered them. But L'manburg was free. It had escaped. It had won.

Where L'manburg went, he would follow.

He climbed back up the crater and stood beside Phil. Beside his father, whatever that meant, now. "Kill me," he said. _(Please, Phil.)_ "Murder me." He he drew his sword and dropped it to the ground with a clatter. _(Spare me, Phil. Be merciful.)_ "Stab me with the sword. Kill me, Phil." Where L'manburg went, he would follow. _(Be merciful, Phil. Spare me the pain of having to do it myself.)_

Phil reached down and picked up the sword, hesitating as he faced Wilbur again.

"Do it!" Wilbur screamed. He gestured to his friends gathered at the edge of the crater. "Look, they all want you to. Do it, Phil! Kill me!" His voice didn't shake anymore. _(Was this right?)_ He didn't have anything left to be afraid of. _(Was there more in this world he could do?)_ Where L'manburg went, he would follow.

Phil looked at the sword in his hands and back up at Wilbur. "I…" he started. "You’re my son!" His face crumpled. Was it grief? Anger? Denial?

"Look! LOOK!" Wilbur shouted. He gestured to the ruins. "How much work went into this? And it's gone!" L'manburg was gone. L'manburg had won. Where L'manburg went, he would follow. "Do it," he said. _(Please, Phil.)_ He looked into Phil's eyes.

Tears dripped off of Phil's chin. He stared at Wilbur. Something flickered behind his eyes. Recognition. Understanding, perhaps. Or maybe it was something else.

The sword fell. 

Wilbur had expected it to hurt. Maybe it did, but he didn’t feel it. All he felt was numb. The blade was cold as it sliced across his chest. The trail it left behind burned, but it was someone else's pain. Not his. He tasted blood in his mouth. Spots danced in his vision. He gasped and collapsed to his knees, head tilted back. He could see the sky, through the dust. He could see Phil. _(Was there something else he could do?)_ No. Where L'manburg went, he would follow. If there was more he could do, it would be forever undiscovered. He, too, would remain unfinished.

The sword fell again. Wilbur stopped resisting. He felt his eyes slide shut, and he fell forward into the dark beyond.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I expect that the first work I ever published would be an MCYT fic? No. Am I mad about it? No. If you liked this or if you think there was something I could have done better, drop a kudos and/or let me know in the comments. I'm always open to feedback. :)
> 
> This hurt to write in the best way possible. I poured a lot of energy into making sure that the characterization was how I wanted it, and I put a couple easter eggs in there too. I cannot believe I am this invested in a fandom about stabby men in a videogame, but here we are and I'm having the time of my life.
> 
> I have plans to write more stuff in the future. I'm thinking about writing some more in this style, dramatizing scenes that happened in the lore. I also have an AU that's been living in my head rent free for the past few weeks that will probably kill me if I don't write it soon. 
> 
> Hope you all are having a wonderful day. Come scream with me in the comments about the lore and stuff because oh my god so much is happening. 
> 
> \-- Ryley :D


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